deer sees me notice her in the woods
deer sees me notice her
in the woods and takes a step
back, her neck gentle like
a sculptor. some days i wish i had
sculptor's hands and with each stroke
of my thumb could smooth the world
into a better place for her. in town,
a few miles down the road, the sculptor
is kneading clay the way the baker
kneads bread, the way the painter
kneads canvas with color, the way
i knead words onto paper.
i watch kids at the beach sculpt sand
into castles, but they aren't castles,
of course, in the same way paints
aren't a landscape and clouds aren't hearts,
but become so when we see it.
perhaps that is the most remarkable
thing about humans- our ability to make,
even just by seeing. deer bolts to her
fawn and i wonder if she knows
we are creating a world just
by being alive.